


Quintessential

by LysanderandHermia



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationship, M/M, relationship feels, this is mostly just dumb fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 13:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LysanderandHermia/pseuds/LysanderandHermia
Summary: Crowley takes Aziraphale on holiday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *shrug* I forgot I had this written, and I never usually write fluff, so.

Aziraphale has given up on understanding Crowley. The demon’s a mess, and just when you think he’s getting predictable, he shakes everything up. The angel plops his chin into his hand from where he’s leaning against the window of the Bentley, staring out at the countryside. It’s the only explanation he has for why they’re suddenly heading for Dover. Crowley’s reasoning is that it ‘feels right, so just pack a bag and let’s  _ go _ , angel’. 

The angel’s confusion only grows when they show up at a quaint little B&B that is distinctly  _ not _ the demon’s style, finding the room they have rented is lush, huge, and has a beautiful view of the ocean. It is quintessentially perfect, and Aziraphale swoons over the view for ages before they even so much as think of heading to the beach.

For the next week, Crowley takes him to little cafes that he constantly complains about, begrudgingly wanders behind Aziraphale as they go into  _ every _ used bookshop they can find while wandering the streets, and manages to cook several painstaking but delicious dinners for them back at their current residency. 

Aziraphale loves every moment of it. 

They’re sipping wine one night on the couch together, Crowley bundled under several blankets because ‘it’s  _ cold _ , angel, give a man a break, we can still see the ocean through the ruddy French doors when they’re shut, it’s called glass and it isn’t  _ that _ new an invention’, when Aziraphale finally breaks down and has to ask. 

“Crowley, why are we here? You’ve done nothing but complain the entire time, despite saying it ‘felt right’ to come here, whatever that means.” Aziraphale regards him over the top of his wine glass and all he can make out of Crowley is the top of his head and his eyes that seem to glow out at him - he’s finally forsaken his sunglasses for the evening. 

The demon turns to stare at him for a moment, before shrugging and turning back to stare at the ocean, though this time, there’s something  _ other _ in his gaze. 

“Is there something going on Down There that I should know about? Did we quit London to avoid some sort of catastrophe?” Aziraphale’s breath hitches slightly at the thought; surely, Crowley would have told him about something like this,  _ surely _ , wouldn’t he? If he hadn’t been so suddenly terrified about the million what-ifs that burst into his head, he’d have noticed that Crowley’s breathing had thinned at the same thoughts.

“No, nothing bad is happening,” he says after another moment, taking a long sip of his wine, his head surfacing just long enough to get at the liquid before he disappears back into the burrow of blankets. Silence falls again, and Aziraphale half thinks Crowley has fallen asleep, it stretches on so long. Finally, he speaks up again, the words drawn out in parts where he’s slid back into his old snake ways.

“I wanted to treat you. Wanted to take you somewhere you’d never been, and that was a challenge in and of itself. We’ve been most places. And, I don’t know, just… enjoy it all.”

He goes quiet again, the ocean crashing against the cliffs in the distance, and it hits Aziraphale then, like a proverbial dump truck of bricks. 

“Two and a half millenium,” Aziraphale breathes, and Crowley looks up at him, and for the first time since they left London, he grins ear to ear and there’s nothing snake like about it. “You sly thing, how sentimental of you.”

Crowley just bundles himself closer to burrow himself against Aziraphale’s side and huffs a breath, “Oh, hush, angel, I just thought it would be nice. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Haven’t you seen me all week? It’s been perfect. A perfect anniversary. But what about you, my dear? Have you been happy, despite the grumping?”

The demon laughs against the angel’s side, sighing contentedly, “Of courssse, angel, I’m always happy when we’re together against the world.”


End file.
